Cut
by XxHot92xX
Summary: Pein turns slightly to regard his accomplice staring resolutely at her crying finger and is not very surprised with her question that is subtly disguised as her answer.


**Title:** Cut  
**Description: **He feels one of his fingers twitch as he watches the oranges and pinks disintegrate to blue. ["...I'm not so sure anymore."  
**Pairings: **Slight KonanPein  
**Rating: **T  
**Warnings:** Potential manga spoilers

**Disclaimer:** If I owned Naruto (which I don't, sadly), the Kakashi gaiden would've been aired instead of hideous fillers, KakaSaku innuendos would be overwhelming, and Hayate would be resurrected to frolic with Genma. And perhaps Raidou as well...

- - -

_My halo is bent_

- - -

"Do you believe I am a god, Konan?"

He stares out the window of their current hideout, the moldy mildew suffocating the closed in walls they call their room. His russet locks are illuminated just slightly from the setting sun and Konan can see orange highlights streaking through the short strands. His numerous barbels and studs glisten with the last rays of sunshine and she does not answer quickly, knowing that he expects her to think carefully and answer truthfully. It is not a quest for compliments. He has no use for such frivolous things, besides the fact that he sees the effects of his work and knows the significance of his mind.

The small, rotting room is enveloped with crinkles of paper, the sounds of incessant folding and creasing emanating from a lonely corner that is not far from the window. Her nimble fingers move quickly, gently, the pattern already ingrained into her mind that she's not all sure is still healthy after all these years. She stares at her hands, watching the extremities perform their magic to their own accord, eyes tracing the small slivers of scars that adorn each finger. The translucent markings are barely noticeable, but there all the same like so many other things.

Konan finally lifts her head to gaze at the man beside the window, his back still presented to her, only offering precisely stitched, crimson clouds for her to view. She blinks slowly and presumes to stare silently, digesting his question languidly, but with strict precision. Her hands suddenly cease with their folding and Konan looks down, only slightly surprised to see blood rivulets cascading down one of her fingers. She brings the wound to her small mouth and sucks softly, the familiar taste of metal bringing back horrid memories that just wouldn't die.

Sliding the finger out of her mouth, Konan watches the blood bubble back and pool around the open sore and lets it slide down her finger slowly.

Her gaze transfixed upon the sticky scarlet, Konan answers Pein calmly, "Do you bleed?"

Pein turns slightly to regard his accomplice staring resolutely at her crying finger and is not very surprised with her question that is subtly disguised as her answer. He clasps his war-torn hands behind his back and gazes at the bright hues of dying sun beyond the horizon. He doesn't realize he's clenching his fingers tightly, knuckles turning white from the brutal pressure.

With a listless, almost nostalgic sigh, Pein replies, "I'm not so sure anymore."

Konan hums briefly, fingering at the liquid that keeps pouring from her hand. She ignores the stench of rot and decay that surrounds them both, only smoothing the blood around her fingertips, smearing the makeshift canvas with red. The navy-haired kunoichi frowns slightly, the renown gesture marring her soft features as she stares at her painted hands; the blatant red overtaking her alabaster flesh. She wonders minutely whether the infamous missing-nin in front of her has ever completely washed his own bloody fingerprints away. Konan raises her eyes once more to his cloud-patterned back, watching as he suffocates his hands. She concludes that he most likely hasn't – like most of organization. Like her.

Konan blinks again, the intense sunlight piercing her grey eyes, staring intently to the shadow the setting sun created that looked familiar but foreign. In this luminosity, Konan had trouble believing if what stood before her was really made of flesh and bone.

She raises her chin an inch, daring to raise her voice above a whisper, "Do you not have scars?"

He never turns around to acknowledge her, but answers all the same in a wistful voice that has Konan tilting her head slightly to the left, "Yes, but I can't see them clearly anymore. They are old, insignificant and fading."

Once again, she isn't surprised by his words for he is merely stating what she already knows. Those scars are of younger, naive days. They are hidden under the weight of the cloak and the exterior of a brilliant mind. Konan daintily takes a crisp new piece of paper and begins the rhythmic folding pattern, a little bit more careful this time. She would hate to soil another white creation with her scarlet drippings; mistakes.

Tracing a finger down the crease line of what is to be a wing, she quietly speaks again, "Are you not made of flesh and blood?"

Pein's multiple irises twinkle in the last essences of day and he can feel the warmth slowly fade away, bringing in night and all its insecurities. The room will have a draft most likely, but at least it will air out the putrid smell. He feels one of his fingers twitch as he watches the oranges and pinks disintegrate to blue.

"I may have been once, but time has turned my skin to stone and my heart has stopped beating along the way."

Konan does not look up from her work, folding one edge to another, and lets her voice fill up the empty space in the desolate room, "Do people worship you?"

He lets the constant folding and crinkling of paper sing him a hollow lullaby as he continues to watch the world from afar, the sunset long gone and already replaced with darkness.

"They bow down in fear."

Konan allows the comment to dangle in the air and she dares to not speak another word. She has already answered his question and he is blatantly aware. The navy-haired kunoichi can't help but to think he has been conscious of this fact for a while now and merely wishes to pretend like her opinion matters. She shakes her head slightly to herself and lets her fingers create visages of life (which she finds bitterly ironic).

_A god perhaps, but a monster as well._

_- - - _

**_A/N:_** A little interaction between our favorite villain dynamic duo.

It's self-explanatory for me and doesn't deserve to be butchered by me explaining the meaning behind the window-dressing.

Soundtrack:

_Better Than Me_ - Hinder  
_Symphony No. 25 _- Mozart  
_Ugly_ - The Exies

Lyrics at the beginning courtesy of Motion City Soundtrack's song _Autographs and Apologies_

I don't think there will be a lot of reviews for this piece, mainly because of the fact that Konan and Pein have not been discovered yet in the anime (so no one really knows them) and also they are, sadly, not as popular as some other characters are. 'Tis a shame, but I digress...the show must go on!

'Till then,

_- - H. 92_


End file.
